


Gentled At Your Hands

by willneverbeordinary



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Hannibal wants a family, Hannigram - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5292653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willneverbeordinary/pseuds/willneverbeordinary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a leap of faith they went over the edge, into the embrace of the sea. The waves received them with open arms into a crushing hold that broke bones and blackened flesh. They were bruised and bleeding but they did survive and time slowly but surely closed every wound and fused the fragments of bone together again. The FBI will find them. But it hasn't happened yet. They are still shadows lingering at the edge of the mind of the world, a glimpse in the corner of the eye. Something not yet solid. As soon as they do take shape the clock starts ticking.</p><p>They will get caught. But not yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. As Formerly, I Wheel, I Hover and I Twist

Will is looking out towards the mire, breathing in the scent of evening and early autumn through his nose. He hears footstep behind him, their fall familiar to him. It’s a sound with a sense of home. A pair of arms come to warp around him, hands on his belly, fingers tracing along his scar. A nose that’s slightly cold nuzzles his neck.  
  
He frowns and smiles though Hannibal can’t see his face. “You keep touching me like this.”  
  
“Yes,” Hannibal says, lips brushing against Will’s skin.  
  
Will closes his eyes, stays quiet for a moment and simply feels the hot touch of a mouth on him, the traces of damp it leaves that the autumn wind instantly chills and he shivers.  
  
“I can’t get pregnant, you know.” He says through a wry smile and lifted eyebrows, looking at Hannibal over his shoulder.  
  
“I know.” Hannibal’s voice has a slight wobble to it, he sounds amused. He places another kiss, more firmly, on Will’s neck. “But I have to confess that I do find myself considering the concept of family for you and me.”  
  
Will smiles again. Laughs even. “Doctor, perhaps you should have paid more attention in school because that is not how the human reproductive system works.”  
  
“Will.” Hannibal’s grasp gets minutely firmer.  

Will looks skywards then down and gives a short sigh. “I’ve lost two already. Abigail and the child Margot and I would have. I lost Walter as well. Or it feels like I lost him. I lost everyone when I went over that edge with you.”

“All the more reason to start over.”

Will hums and turns his head again, facing forward and away from Hannibal, and leans back, rests it against Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal’s hands are pressed lightly against Will’s scar and partially he feels bad for joking about childbearing when it’s not at all what Hannibal’s hands on him is about. Not in an actual sense. Though perhaps in a metaphorical one; Will did get that scar when their family crumbled and their child was lost to them, after all. For Hannibal to touch it and think of family seems reasonable somehow to Will.

Partially he just feels weary of attachments.

When Hannibal speaks again, Will hears the smile in his voice rather than sees it. “I’m thinking of a fledgling, a tiny thing for you and me to care for.”  
  
“I don’t know exactly where Bedelia stands on the whole playing house but she was happy to play the role of you wife.” Will says instead of an answer. His tone is light yet he knows he’s pulling his shoulders forward, hunching in over himself slightly. He has kept from mentioning her, thinking about her, but now it all seems to spew out. “Maybe you should have picked her if that’s what you wanted.“  
  
"Because she can carry a child?” Hannibal asks, arms wrapping around Will’s waist, pulling Will closer against his body.  
  
Will ducks his head, he speaks with a quiet voice and screws his eyes shut. “Because I  _don’t want_  a family.”   
  
“I remember how you described the concept of family as alien to you.”   
  
Hannibal is frowning, Will can sense it and hear it. He bites at his bottom lip and let’s go with a small sigh.  
  
“Like and ill-fitting suit, yes,” Will says.  
  
“Yet you became so easily attached to Abigail. And the idea of the child you never had. Were you attached to Walter as well?”  
  
Will gives a short laugh of teeth and bitterness through thin lips pulled back in a snarl. "I went over that edge with you Hannibal but don’t remind me what you took from me.”  
  
Hannibal says nothing. Will tries to ease the rigidness in his jaw.  
  
"You should have chosen Bedelia. She’s just like you.” His smile feels painful, sounds painful even to him. “She also sees vulnerable little birds and wants to  _crush_  them.” Will imagines he hears the crunch of splintering bones at the word. He sees red, tastes copper.  
  
He screws his eyes closed again, drawing a few sharp breaths through his nose.  
  
“I imagine she would. Bedelia is strong. And she has an instinct to reject weakness, both within herself and others.”  
  
Will steps out of Hannibal’s embrace, takes a step, two steps away and turns to face him. “I would not want a  _child_  to have me as their father. To have  _you_  as their father.”  
  
Hannibal regards him, a slight tilt to his head. “You have a nurturing instinct.”  
  
“You don’t.” He bites his bottom lip, shakes his head.  
  
There’s a smirk hiding in the corner of Hannibal’s mouth and he tilts his head slightly forward now. “Do I crush the wounded birds? Or do I help them find their strength?”  
  
“Oh, you’ve helped us find  _something_ , Dr. Lecter.” Will smiles and it tastes like iron and decay. It’s an acquired taste.  
  
Hannibal closes the distance between them and places his hand on Will’s belly, palm warm through the layers of clothes. “I have taken much from you, Will.”  
  
Will flinches. He feels a stab in his guts like a phantom sensation. He swallows.  
  
“Let me give you a child.”  
  
Will looks up and meets Hannibal’s gaze. His eyes searches and he sees the image unfold like watercolours bleeding into shape. “It won’t ever be her. You won’t get her back.”  
  
Will watches as the veil falls. Watches as Hannibal’s eyes grow cold, as hostility swirls and heaves beneath the mask, glimpses only just visible through the stitches. His hand falls to his side, fists tightly clenched.  
  
“It won’t matter how many times you drop the teacup, Hannibal. Who you try to replace her with. You won’t ever get your sister back.”  
  
“I wanted to give you something, Will. I wanted you to have a child. For us to be a family. And you would deny me this.”  
  
“No. No, I wouldn’t. You know I wouldn’t.” This time Will is the one to move closer but slowly, carefully. “But it can’t be her. It  _won’t_  be her. You have to let her go.”  
  
Hannibal is watching his movements with narrowed eyes. Will moves in close, only inches between them, and reaches for him, gently cups the back of his head. “It has to be  _our_  child. Do you want to give me a child, Hannibal?” He tips their heads together, forehead to forehead. “I want you to give us a family. I want to let you.”  
  
He feels Hannibal relax. He knows he’s still on his guard. Will wants to tell him he doesn’t need to be, not anymore. But he doesn’t. He is counting on that they will map out this new territory that have fallen into and find that it contains none of the pitfalls of their old relationship.  
  
Hannibal’s hands come to rest at Will’s hips, squeezing gently. “It won’t be yours and mine, biologically. Do you want the child to be your biological child?”  
  
Will moves his hands, palms flat against Hannibal’s back. He blinks rapidly a few times, moves his forehead against Hannibal’s and presses all of himself slightly closer. “You know the answer to that.”  
  
“An adoptive child would relieve you of any genetic responsibility. Yet you entertain the idea what your blood could carry on.”  
  
“Yes.” Will’s voice has a tremor to it. He tightens his hold on Hannibal.  
  
“It’s simple enough to have it be your biological child. Nature is predictable in that regard.”  
  
Will tilts his head from side to side without pulling back. He closes his eyes. “No. No. I can hear your thoughts moving into shape. Don’t.”

He allows himself to imagine surrogacy, though, if only for a moment, but even done right, as Hannibal no doubt would strive to do it, it feels wrong to Will. No matter the level of transparency they offer and the consent they can get it won’t be honest enough for what they will be asking of someone.  
  
Hannibal’s voice tugs Will out of his own imagination. “Do you fantasize about if it could be ours? What it would be like?”  
  
“I- find myself wondering.” Will opens his eyes. He frowns. “If it would be born  _hungry_.”  
  
“Science is almost at a point where it would be possible.”  
  
Will huffs something like a laugh. “For the sake of the world I hope that our genetics don’t ever mix.”  
  
“You have to admit; it would be a beautiful creation.” One of Hannibal’s hands leave Will’s hip and comes to caress his cheek, stroke a thumb across his jaw, and then thread gentle fingers through his hair.   
  
“It would be something feral. Something dark and bloodthirsty,” Will says.  
  
Hannibal smiles at him, amusement in his voice as he speaks. “It would only be a child, Will. A helpless, innocent thing.”  
  
“In the hands of lions. It would grow up to be one of the big cats.” Will’s eyes find Hannibal’s. His voice grows soft and brittle, the thin ice over the treacherous waters of a stream just barely frozen. “It would. Devour.”  
  
Hannibal kisses him then, just a touch of lips against lips, brief, soft, and when he pulls back a fraction he looks at Will with fond eyes. “Beautiful. You believe it would be so much like yourself?”  
  
Will knits his brow. “What am I like, Dr. Lecter?”  
  
Hannibal’s eyes seem to glint. “Ferocious.”  
  
There’s a haunting of a laughter on Will’s tongue, it passes like a specter. “Savage? Cruel?”  
  
“When you attack you are devoid of pity. You are without restraint.”  
  
“Righteous violence.”  
  
Hannibal hums at him. “It’s an elegant form of violence.”  
  
“Elegant?” Will snorts. “Savagery is hardly  _elegant_. I rip apart and bathe in blood. That’s crude. Base. Hardly refined, Dr. Lecter.”  
  
“There is beauty in the way lions kill. In their strength and ferocity. Yet they sever and bury their mouths in the fresh blood and flesh of their kill.”  
  
Will smiles. “Brutal, not brutish?”  
  
“You are radiant when you end lives, Will.” Hannibal brings him closer and places another soft kiss on Will’s mouth, speaks with his lips against Will’s. “You are a magnificent creature.”  
  
Will breathes in quickly and out with a slight shudder, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t say things like that.”  
  
Hannibal pulls him close, pulls him into a hug, whispers against his hair. “You have devoured me, Will. Remember that you said you wanted to?”  
  
“I want-” Will breathes and his voice shakes. He feels the warmth of the body pressed close against his, imagines he can feel their heartbeats, a steady rhythm thudding in perfect unison.  
  
“You have consumed me completely.”   
  
Will shivers. Hannibal’s fingers are twisted into his hair, he can feel the tugging grip, and his other hand has come to rest on Will’s shoulder, gripping tightly, tightly. His chin is digging into Will’s neck and Will can hear him inhale deeply, imagine his eyes closed so tightly against tears like tiny crystals, like snowflakes yet to fall.

“Hannibal?” Will says, barely audibly. The material of Hannibal’s knitted sweater his soft underneath his hands. He closes his fingers around the fabric, bunches it up and twists. His heart his beating like ocean weaves swelling against his chest.  
  
Hannibal is quiet for a moment, then speaks softly. "As formerly, I wheel, I hover and I twist, but only want the feel, In my possessive thought, of catcher and of caught upon your wrist.”  
  
“I'm the catcher. And I caught you?” It’s a growing realization and Will draws his eyebrows together and he can see the imagine bleed into shape.  
  
Hannibal pulls back to look at him and gives a hint of a smile. “I let you.”  
  
“No, you didn’t.” There’s a quick smile that passes over his features. “You couldn’t help yourself.”  
  
“Then you couldn’t help yourself either, Will.” Hannibal looks at him and then at Will’s arms circling his chest before he looks Will in the eye again.  
  
Will is quiet. He slowly leans in and tucks his head under Hannibal’s chin, breathes in the damp scent of the evening that has started to cling to Hannibal’s clothes and he breathes in whatever scent that is Hannibal’s own. The temperature is sinking and it laps against his back and whirl around his feet and ankles while most of him is embraced in Hannibal’s body heat. He’s wrapped in the warmth, feels his skin heat up where they touch. Would touch if not for knitted sweaters. Skin against skin and he thinks that he would have been set alight. It’s too much. It’s always not enough.  
  
“I thought,” Will says, voice steady if somewhat muffled against Hannibal, though the breaths in-between words aren’t. “I was the unwitting prey getting hunted down.”  
  
“You did?” There is something in Hannibal’s voice that sounds almost amused. “Were you not the lure? Cleverly enticing me to bite?”  
  
“You have.” Will swallows. Lets his teeth briefly catch his own bottom lip. “Some bite.”  
  
“Perhaps you were the fisherman. Not Jack Crawford.”  
  
Will has to relax the sudden tension in his shoulders. “Jack should be fed to the wolves.”  
  
Hannibal makes a noise that could be a soft chuckle. “We should feed him to you.”  
  
Will lifts his head again, looking at Hannibal and crooking and eyebrow at him. “Would you like to serve him, Hannibal?”  
  
“If it pleases you,” Hannibal says in a voice so serious it makes Will’s lips twitch with suppressed amusement. Hannibal’s eyes twinkle with that same sentiment.  
  
Will is silent a moment. “I can think about it.”  
  
“Yes. The decision is entirely yours to make,” Hannibal tells him.  
  
"You know, Bedelia was rather rude to me.”  

This time Hannibal does chuckle.  
  
“My dear Will, what a wicked boy you are.”  
  
Will places a quick kiss on Hannibal’s lips and pulls back. He arches an eyebrow. “I think she should get her due, don’t you?”  
  
“I am rather fond of her.” Hannibal smiles softly at him, stroking back a strand of hair that’s fallen against his forehead.  
  
“So is the slaughter that hand rears lambs.” Will looks away for a second, then back with a hint of a smile.  
  
Hannibal gives him a small nod.  
  
"She did call me a ‘righteous, reckless, twitchy little man’.”  
  
Hannibal cocks his head just a fraction and blinks. “Indeed very rude.”  
  
“Arguably I am righteous. And reckless.” Will’s gaze drops to Hannibal’s mouth and flicks back up to his eyes. “I don’t appreciate the last part.”  
  
A small smile slowly creeps onto Hannibal’s features. 

“You intend to eat her,” Will tells him. He has leaned in closer again. He feels Hannibal’s exhales like the flutter of wings.

“I do,” Hannibal agrees. He looks at Will with lidded eyes, gripping just a little tighter, pressing just a little bit closer. “Do you intent do watch?”

“I intend to participate,” Will says in a low voice before his lips meet Hannibal’s pulling a soft noise from him and an eager response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from the poem "Tamer and Hawk" by Thom Gunn, as is the line that begins with "as formerly I wheel".


	2. When I Go, I Go At Your Commands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vita brevis,  
> ars longa,  
> occasio praeceps,  
> experimentum periculosum,  
> iudicium difficile.

When the door opens to Will’s knocking he sees Bedelia’s face shift from tired lines around her mouth to an expression of wide, glassy eyes.

He smiles at her.

She looks over his shoulder, undoubtedly at Hannibal, and opens the door for them as she turns her back and walks into the house. Silently they follow. She has an opened bottle of red wine, a half empty glass next to it. She takes the bottle and fills her glass up, almost to the brim, lifts it slowly, sips, and turns towards them.

“Hello, Will,” she says, lips to the rim of her glass and a sip to follow her words.

“Hello, Bedelia.”

“Hannibal.”

Will sees, from the corner of his eye, Hannibal giving a small nod. Hannibal is not quite standing next to him; he’s a fraction further back, and Will can see Bedelia’s gaze flit between them. There’s a slight furrow to her brow. Then it smooths out and she gives a quiet but heavy sigh.

“Let me guess,” she says. “You play, you pay?”  
  
Will gives her a lopsided smile. “Yes.”  
  
“Have you come to take something from me.” She quirks an eyebrow at him.

He gives a small laugh, shakes his head. “No.”  
  
The other eyebrow joins the first and her hand stills. The glass rests against her lips for a little moment before she slowly lowers it. Her brow furrows again.

“Has _he_ come to take something.”

“Not at all Bedelia,” Hannibal says then, some amusement or happiness lacing his voice. “On the contrary, I am here to give a gift.”  
  
Bedelia’s eyes go wide. Then narrows. “Congratulations, Will. I’m sure I will make an excellent gift.”

“Oh, with the proper preparations, no doubt.”  
  
She almost drains her glass at that.

“Shall we, then?” Hannibal says as he steps forward and takes her by the elbow and she looks at him with narrowed eyes and a tightness around her mouth.

In the moment of silence that follows they both turn to Will. He gives a slow smile and makes a gesture, “After you.”

Bedelia puts her now almost empty glass down. She tilts her chin up and looks at Will with an icy gaze. When she speaks her voice is as cool as winter's frost. Cold and clear. And brittle.

“God help us. Art is long, and life so short.” 

Hannibal gives a noise, a hint of laughter, at her words. “God will not help you, I’m afraid.”

Will grins. “No, he will not.”

“I think we should start with a leg,” Hannibal says. “Will?”

“She didn’t have one to stand on to begin with when it comes to us.”

Bedelia scoffs at him.

They make their way to the dining room and Will looks around. It looks a lot like Bedelia herself, in a way. Elegant. Poised. Nothing extravagant but with the clear air of expensiveness. He looks at her and even as her life is threatened and a needle goes into her pale arm she still looks regal. He wonders for a moment if that is why he so easily sees her with Hannibal. Then again, Hannibal’s aristocratic appearance is only a very thin veneer over something entirely untamed. His civilized manners is but a pretense because being truly civilized is to inhibit instincts and urges and suppress the violence that wants to break the chains modern society has placed upon it.

Hannibal has no intentions of inhibiting any instinct of violence.

It all takes time. The preparations of setting the table, of taking Bedelia’s leg, of cleaning and dressing the wound, making sure she doesn’t bleed out, and getting her into a very beautiful evening dress, takes hours. Cooking the leg takes the entirety of the day.

Once they settle in at the dining table, Bedelia’s eyes are unfocused and her balance wobbly and unstable. Will looks at her and gives a quirk of his lips and he gets up and moves over to stand next to her. He places a hand on her shoulder.

“Wine, Bedelia?”

“Thank you,” she says and some of the syllables slur ever so slightly.

He pours, puts the decanter down and catches her wrist in his hand as she attempts to stab him in the thigh. He looks at his fingers and squeezes and she drops the knife which clatters to the floor. She slowly raises her gaze unsteadily and looks him in the eye. He smiles and lets go of her, picks the knife back up, all the while keeping his eyes on her, and places it back on the table where it was before and then takes his seat again.

Hannibal serves the food and for a while they eat in silence.

“Are you not worried they will find me or am I to assume you are going to eat me in my entirety. Leaving no evidence behind?” Bedelia says and takes a bite, chewing slowly.

Will blinks a few times and frowns. He smiles slowly at her. “I’m letting you live, Bedelia.”

“And you are certain he is going to let you do so?” She asks him, glancing over at Hannibal who is eating silently, merely watching.

“He’s not letting me do anything,” Will laughs. “I am letting him eat your leg. And nothing more.”

She looks at him for a long moment. “I see.”

Will frowns at her again. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

She takes another bite and Will contemplates for a fleeting moment of burying his fork in her eye. But the feeling passes and he shudders in the aftermath of it and tries to shake it off. He looks over at Hannibal who smiles fondly at him. Will quickly looks down and keeps his gaze on his plate.

Once they are done eating and Hannibal has cleared the table, he comes to stand next to Will.

“It has been a lovely evening, Bedelia. Unfortunately Will and I shall have to leave you now.”

“Not yet,” Will says and they both look at him. He looks at Bedelia. “You still don’t think I’m in control of the situation?”

“I think,” she says, looking at him, then at Hannibal, and then slowly back again, “your control is an _illusion_.”

“An act?”

“Something you are telling yourself.” She tries to sit up a little straighter but seems to be struggling. “Hannibal is not one to relinquish control, merely make it seem as if though he has.”

Will looks at her in silence for a moment. Then, without a word, he turns his head to catch Hannibal’s gaze and he reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder and with just the barest hint of pressure Hannibal easily sinks to his knees.

Will looks back at Bedelia who slowly closes her mouth.

“I- may have been mistaken,” she murmurs and there is a slightly wild look in her eyes.

He cards his fingers through Hannibal’s hair, lets the carefully placed strands fall into a mess. He sees the tiny twitch to Hannibal’s upper lip and runs his hand through his hair once more anyway.

Will stands up and leaves Hannibal kneeling for a while. He buttons his suit jacket and nods at Bedelia who nods back at him with an uncertain expression.

“I don’t think I will have to tell you not to contact the FBI?” he says and she merely quirks an eyebrow at him.

He reaches out a hand to Hannibal who takes it and gracefully rises to his feet again. His eyes are solely on Will and he doesn’t spare Bedelia another glance.

“Goodbye, Bedelia,” Will says as he places a hand at the small of Hannibal’s back and gently leads him out. He hears Bedelia say a disbelieving ‘goodbye’ when they are almost out of the room.

Once they are out of the house they quickly make their way to the car. Hannibal takes the driver’s seat but they drive for no more than a couple of minutes before he pulls over by the side of and empty, unlit road. Hannibal’s hands are gripping the steering wheel tightly and with a jerky movement he turns to Will and grabs him by the back of the neck. Will goes easily as Hannibal pulls at him but Hannibal stops more than a few inches away. His breathing comes sharp and short and his eyes flick down to Will’s lips. Will feels his pulse speed up and he reaches out to run his thumb over Hannibal’s bottom lip and Hannibal’s lips instantly parts to his touch. He lets his hand fall away, however. Instead he places a light kiss to those lips, a brief thing. When he pulls back Hannibal draws a sharp breath through his nose and then he surges in, one hand still on Will’s neck and the other against the side of his jaw, and kisses Will.

Will breaks the kiss. He unbuckles his seatbelt with unsteady fingers and opens the door and steps out into the chilly night. It takes a few moments before Hannibal opens his door. When their eyes meet over the car Will opens the backdoor and climbs inside. After a little moment Hannibal joins him. They sit side by side for a minute and the only noise Will hears is their labored breathing and his own heartbeat load as the ocean in his ears. He closes his eyes and opens them again and reaches for Hannibal and pulls him into another kiss. Hannibal kisses him back and Will touches his tongue to those lips and they open to his touch and he dips inside to taste. He finds that Hannibal tastes of wine and fruit and spices and maybe something faintly metallic. Hannibal grabs at his clothes and yanks him closer and Will’s stomach lurches as a hand closes around his throat.

His breath is coming in dizzying little gasps and he looks at Hannibal through hooded eyes and his hands seek and try to find their way underneath Hannibal’s clothes to touch naked skin. He grabs clumsily at Hannibal and drags him close and presses his lips to Hannibal’s and gives a small gasp as his kisses are hungrily returned. But he pulls back again and stills himself, breathing heavily, and then he rests his forehead to Hannibal’s. Hannibal’s hand slowly leaves Will’s throat and comes to rest on his shoulder instead.  

Will lets out a laugh.   

When he pulls back he sees Hannibal smile at him.

Will gives him another quick kiss before he untangles himself and returns to the passenger seat. He looks back at Hannibal who still hasn’t moved. He is looking at Will with blown pupils and parted lips but eventually he gets back in the driver’s seat and starts the car and pulls back out on the road. It sends a hot, liquid rush through Will’s abdomen and he closes his eyes and leans back in his seat with a lazy smile. They are slowly starting to take shape, to have a more solid form. From shadows to something tangible and they have stepped back into the world, no longer a whisper or an echo.

Unfortunately they have also begun to make ripples.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prewritten work - new chapter once a week on Wednesdays. Chapter 2 and 3 are shorter, around 1800 words, but the final chapters is 3000 words. (And roughly 1000 of those words are smut, the rest is equal parts pain and fluff.)


	3. But Half Civilized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teacups and time and the rules of disorder.

It wasn’t Will who shot her mother. He did, however, have his part in orphaning her as it had been he who had killed her father. Will and Hannibal didn’t have anything to do with the criminals and their fight but had found themselves in the middle of it; a terrible case of wrong place and wrong time and now a little girl was without her parents.

Even before the child had emerged Will had shouted at Hannibal, had tried to make him save the women that neither of them had hurt and who Will felt had been as unfairly caught in the middle of something as they had. Maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe she had been a part of all of it. He had begged Hannibal to save her anyway. Hannibal had tried to stop the bleeding – gunshot wound to the chest – but she had convulsed and choked and bled and her eyes didn’t focus and her fingers clawed and cramped. She was still alive when everything else had gone quiet and the little girl appeared and ran up to her. Once she showed up Will got down next to Hannibal and screamed at him to not let the woman die but Hannibal had whispered 'Mischa', eyes suddenly on the girl, and though Will would like to think Hannibal didn’t stop trying to save that woman, didn't just let her die, that was likely the case.

Hannibal mumbles a few words neither he nor the child can possibly understand and turns with hard eyes and a stern voice to Will. “Will, we killed her parents. We need to look after her now.”

He can’t see how the little girl reminds Hannibal of his long dead sister, not with the way this girl’s dark brown hair curls like a mane framing her little face and her skin several shades darker than Hannibal’s own, but strangely enough he looks at those sad eyes, brown, not blue, and sees Abigail. Will doesn’t know any Spanish, and maybe the Colombian girl doesn’t know any English, but he tries to talk to her anyway and tell her that she is safe and that they are going to look after her.

Hannibal keeps talking in some language Will doesn’t know and his eyes are fever blank and he’s reaching for the little girl. Will picks her up then and holds onto her tightly. She hides her little face against his shoulder.

“Hey, what’s your name? It’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you. I’m Will, this is Hannibal. We’re going to look after you.”

“Adia.” It’s mumbled against the fabric of his shirt and she has to repeat herself twice before it registers with him.

“Oh.” He adjusts his grip, hoist her up a little. She’s so light, so little. Maybe six years old. She’s still crying. “Hi Adia, I’m Will Graham.”

“Will, we need to leave.” Hannibal’s hand is clutching Will’s shoulder firmly.

Will shifts himself away slightly and cradles the girls head with a hand. “Yes.”

Hannibal’s hand drops and he narrows his eyes ever so slightly. “Come.”

They make their way to the hotel they meant to stay at before continue moving. Colombia was only a stop on the way after having payed Bedelia a visit. When they reach the hotel Will’s heartrate picks up but no one stops them. Once inside their tiny room, Will carefully sets Adia down on the narrow bed. Hannibal hovers close by and Will gives him a look over his shoulder. Hannibal gives him a narrowed eyed gaze in return but then he turns on his heels and disappears into the bathroom.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Will asks as he pulls a blanket off the chair next to the bed and shakes it out. He drapes it over the girl’s little shoulders.

She shakes her head at him and tries to push the blanket off but he just warps her up again. It’s warm in the room, stuffy, and the blanket is a itchy kind of wool but she is shivering and so he doesn’t let her take it off.

“Do you have anywhere to go?”

She shakes her head again.

Will swallows. He looks down at his own feet. He closes his eyes for a moment and opens them to the sound of footsteps. He turns his head and looks at Hannibal who has only taken two small steps into the room. Will looks at the glass of water held tightly in Hannibal’s hand.

He turns his head towards Adia again. “Do you want to stay with us?”

At first she doesn’t move but then she nods forcefully.

Hannibal comes to stand close behind him, just by Will’s left shoulder, and Will plucks the glass from him and hands to the girl. She takes it and drinks a mouthful but then she puts it away.

“We are taking you to Europe. To a place of tall mountains covered in snow,” Hannibal says as he crouches down by the bed.

“No,” Will tells him and watches Hannibal’s shoulders tense. “We are not taking her to Switzerland.”

“We had everything prepared, Will.”

“And now we have her and she does not have a passport or an identity no one will be looking for.”

Hannibal stands slowly and looks at him. “I will take care of it.”

“We are not taking her from her home.”

Will can almost feel the tension in Hannibal’s body. He reads it easily enough in the set of the man’s jaw, the hands balled into fists and hid away in his pockets, the lifted chin and narrowed eyes. He reaches out slowly and places a hand at Hannibal’s chest, feels the beat of his heart against his palm. 

“I don’t want her to have to move from place to place. I don’t want to take her from here to somewhere strange and different.”

Hannibal’s expression softens and he gives a small nod. Will smiles at him.

When he looks at Adia again her head is beginning to fall down towards her chest and she picks it back up with a yawn.

“I think it’s time to sleep,” he says and crouches down and picks her up.

The blanket falls off and Hannibal bends down and picks it up. He folds it and places it back on the chair as Will carries the girl to the bathroom and takes out a toothbrush and hands to her. She fumbles a bit but eventually manages to tear open the plastic around it and he squeezes some toothpaste on it.

“Yucky,” she says as soon as she tastes it but brushes anyway.

Will gives a little laugh. “Well, I suppose we will have to buy you a kid’s toothpaste.”

He helps her brush and it’s a strange sensation, brushing someone else’s teeth. He feels clumsy and worries that he’s not being gentle enough or that he doesn’t get them clean enough. But Adia is cooperative and calm and when he puts her down so she can spit and is about to leave the bathroom in case she has to use the toilet she bounds past him and into the bedroom. Will follows her but she has already climbed into bed and Hannibal is pulling the covers up around her.

“A story?” she asks, looking at Hannibal.

Hannibal looks over his shoulder at Will who smiles and nods at him.

“Very well,” Hannibal says as he sits down on top of the covers next to her. “I think I do know a story of a man who slayed a dragon.”

He looks at Will with a hint of a smirk and Will tightens his jaw and looks back at Hannibal with stern eyes. Hannibal’s grin only widens and turns back to Adia again.

“A version appropriate for your age, of course. A fairytale.”

Will shakes his head and goes to brush his own teeth and get ready to sleep and when he unlocks the door again and steps back into the room Hannibal is completely enamored with the little girl who has taken his hand in her tiny one and looks up at him with complete focus on the story he is telling, her little face framed by a halo of curly hair. Will turns on the lamp on the nightstand and goes to turn of the light in the room and bathroom. Then he sits down in the hard, uncomfortable chair and takes the itchy blanket to warp around himself and with a smile he watches Hannibal tell his story to the child and his heart swells.

He keeps awake as Adia falls asleep and as Hannibal goes to the bathroom and comes back and takes off his shoes and lays down on the bed on top of the coves and places his hand on Adia’s shoulder. He reaches out and brushes away the hair that has fallen against Hannibal’s forehead and Hannibal looks up at him with eyes that somehow looks big and soft and shiny and seems to make his entire face appear less sharp and less cold. Will’s heart contracts at the sight. He gently strokes Hannibal’s hair again. Hannibal settles down against the pillow.

Will hesitates for a moment but then he leans down and places a kiss to Hannibal’s temple. Hannibal turns his head and faces him and just looks at him without saying anything. Will holds his breath for a heartbeat, two, three, and then he leans down and presses his lips to Hannibal’s. When he pulls back Hannibal has a serene look on his face and Will turns away from it. He settles back in the chair, turns the nightstand lamp off and wraps the blanket more securely around himself.

When his eyes adjust to the dim light of the room he watches as Hannibal slowly drifts off to sleep. Will places a hand on his own belly where his scar is, on top of his clothes and on top of the scratchy blanket, and watches the child curled up on her side, sleeping peacefully, and Hannibal curled protectively next to her, his hand still on her shoulder, and with an ache in his heart that feels soft and warm he lets himself fall asleep as well.

The next day they do nothing but eat and spend their time in the small room and the day after they repeat the same nothing all over again. The third they Will and Hannibal look at maps and find out about crime rates in different cities nearby and on the fourth day they look for houses on sale. On the fifth day they have a new identity for Adia. On the sixth day Adia has become unruly. She runs away and hides and she has stopped talking. Will can see that Hannibal’s patient is running low and he takes the little girl out and takes her to a store and lets her buy ice cream. When they get back Hannibal scoops her up and holds her tight, kissing on the top of her head. He puts her down and pulls Will into his arms and Will lets Hannibal hold him with one hand gripping his shirt tightly and the other at the back of his head until Hannibal lets him go again. He gives Hannibal a quick kiss then and Hannibal gives him a smile.

On the seventh day Hannibal buys them a house and they leave the hotel and their old world behind them.


	4. For You I Fear To Lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You cannot control with respect to whom you fall in love.

It’s their dogs barking that wakes Will from sleep. He hears unfamiliar noises, footsteps out of place and in the wrong hour. It’s been two years of nothing but sounds he’s grown used to and now something is wrong. He turns to shake Hannibal awake but Hannibal is already leaping out of the bed and before Will even sits up properly he has disappeared through the door.

Will follows.

He crosses the hallway and half runs into Adia’s bedroom. He stops at the open door, one hand on the doorframe, and sees her safe in Hannibal’s tight embrace. He has picked her up and is holding her in his arms, her legs around his waist and her head tucked safely away against his chest. He cups her head with one large hand and the other arm is looped securely around her little body. With wild eyes he looks at Will and Will crosses the small distance and places a hand at the small of his back and gently begins to lead him out of the room, out of the house.

They don’t make it.

The ripples they made have bounced, turned into a tidal wave, and now it all comes back to drown them.

The sound Hannibal makes as they manage to tear Adia from his arms is that of a wounded animal. It’s a wet and torn open sound, as if someone has ripped off a limb from his body by taking the girl. He screams for her, he screams until Will can no longer discern the ‘Mischa!’ in it but only the garbled noise of someone dying.

A hand of an officer tries to grab Will and he breaks the arm of the man. It splinters with a snap and a yelp. He crushes a windpipe of one of them, he tears out a pound of flesh from the neck of another with his teeth. One tires to take him down and a chair splinters over his back as he is hit with it. Will falls down coughing but grabs one of the splintered legs and throws himself to his feet and drives it deep into the belly of the man that attacked him.

A forceful blow knocks him over the back of the head and Will’s body drops. His head spins as he tries to stagger to his feet and falls over, panting with his head hanging down between his shoulders and eyes trying to focus. He sees the blood that drips from his mouth and onto the cool floor tiles. It’s not his.

“I had hoped you had gone down a hero.”

“Jack.”

Will turns and almost falls over where he’s crouching on hands and knees.

Jack shakes his head. “What has he done to you.”

A laugh bubbles up Will’s throat and he can’t stop it. It spills over, red with blood and hollow with pain. “He hasn’t done anything to me, Jack.”

Jack's brow furrows.

“You realize,” Will says as he manages to pull himself to his feet. “That we are back in the moment where teacups shatter.”

"Will?"

“How did you die last time?”

“I didn’t.”

Will closes his hand tightly and takes a few steps closer. Jack balls his hands into fists and widens his stance. He lowers his head somewhat and pulls his shoulder up a fraction.

“You don’t want to do this, Will,” he says and there is an edge to his voice. Nothing sharp, more something that’s beginning to crack.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

He launches. Jack deflects but not it’s not enough and the object in Will’s hand is driven deep into the side of his neck. His eyes bulge wide and he tries to grasp at the piece of wood sticking out but he can’t pry Will’s fingers away. Their eyes meet. Jack’s are wide and filled with confusion and questions that never shall have any answers. Will’s are calm.

And he yanks the weapon out.

Jack falls to the floor in a gush of arterial spray. He coughs and he convulses and he goes still.

The noises have quieted. Bodies and blood are on the kitchen floor. Will’s heartbeat has been steady but now it picks up and almost cramps.

“Hannibal?” he calls.

No answer.

He begins to search and doesn’t find him among the bodies on the floor. He doesn’t find him in any of the four rooms of their house. Will has been half running but now he sprints. He throws himself through the front door and ducks as he sees the police cars. There are no one opening fire at him, however, and he can’t see any movement. Slowly he approaches the vehicles and halfway there a darker shadow is separated from the black of the night. He crouches besides it.

A rush of relief escapes him on an exhale. “Hannibal!”

Hannibal’s eyes don’t focus on him. They jump around and his bloodied fingers shape claws that tear at the wet grass. His breathing is strained and his body tense. Will gently grips his chin and tilts his head up. Dark and wild eyes meet his after a while.

“Hannibal,” he says softly and Hannibal gives a shudder. His eyelids drop and when he opens his eyes again they are calmer. “Let me find her for you.”

Will lets his other hand card through Hannibal’s blood-matted hair and Hannibal presses into the touch with a soft noise. He lets go and reaches out with a hand for Hannibal to take and he helps him to his feet. Hannibal pulls him close and drops his head to Will’s shoulder. Will puts his arms around him and holds on for a moment. Then he breaks their embrace, takes Hannibal’s hand, intertwines their fingers, and leads him the rest of the way over to the two cars.

The first one is empty but as Will opens the backdoor to the second one he spots a little shape on the floor between the front- and the backseat. A little face framed by a mane of tiny, dark curls looks up at him and he smiles gently.

He reaches out with his free hand and Adia takes it and climbs out.

“Your blood?” he asks as he lets go of Hannibal and crouches down in front of his little girl.

She shakes her head. “No.”

Without a word Will opens the driver’s door. A limp body falls out and hits the gravel with a dull sound. He looks at Hannibal who picks Adia up in his arms and runs his thumb over her mouth. With a grin he plops it into his own mouth.

“It’s blood,” he says towards Will and towards her he asks, “Did you bite him?”

She nods.

“That’s my good girl.”

Will sees Hannibal lay his cheek against the top of her head and hide a smile against her hair. Will kicks the body over and empty eyes stare up at him. He leaves it and turns to his small family instead. He puts one arm around Hannibal’s waist and the other on Aida’s little back and he kisses Hannibal’s temple.

“We should leave,” he says quietly

Hannibal gives a nod. Will lets him carry Adia to their car but he doesn’t let him keep her in his lap but takes her from him and straps her in in the backseat. He had to pry her away and Hannibal had looked at him with narrow eyes and a curl to his upper lip. He doesn’t relax until they have driven for an hour and Adia has fallen asleep.

Will reaches out towards Hannibal and takes the hand resting in Hannibal’s lap. He squeezes. Hannibal turns to him with a small smile and he smiles back.

It takes them several more hours to reach the small cottage and Will carries a sleeping Adia inside. He gets at towel and cleans her face while Hannibal makes her bed. She squirms but goes back to sleep when he lays her down and tucks her in.

They retreat to their small bedroom and as soon as Will closes the door Hannibal is on him. He presses Will against the solid wood with the weight of his body and Will’s back protest and he gives a tense grunt. Sharp teeth press against his throat and he relaxes his muscles as much as he can. He keeps still as Hannibal’s hands comes to grab his thighs and only moves when he is hoisted up. Will loops his arms around Hannibal’s neck and drops his forehead to Hannibal’s shoulder with a pained noise as Hannibal slams Will’s back against the door as he picks him up.

“Hannibal,” Will says with his lips pressed to Hannibal’s neck. “Take me to bed.”

There is an answering noise, almost a growl, as Hannibal tears away from the door and staggers to the bed where they fall down without any grace. Will hits the bare mattress hard and he gets Hannibal’s full weight on him and frantic fingers that tears at his clothes and the sound of rushed breaths through clenched teeth. He pulls Hannibal sweater off and runs his hand over his solid back, feeling the tensed and rippling muscles beneath the skin. He presses his lips to Hannibal’s shoulder and tastes the barest hint of salt.

Once they are naked, once they are pressed skin against skin, Will does not feel as if he has been set ablaze. He feels instead as if he has been submerged. Weight pressing against him like an ocean and breaths like rolling waves washing over him. He breathes with it, with the rhythm of the body on top of his. He wraps his arms tighter around Hannibal and shifts against him and he gives a small and soft ‘oh’ as he closes his eyes and drowns in sensation.

“Hannibal,” he says, and it’s so new and it’s so fragile as it leaves his lips. “Please.”

A gentle hand pushes his hair back from his forehead and Hannibal gives it a soft kiss. He then kisses Will’s lips, a slow and feather light touch. The kisses move to Will’s neck and Will moans. His hand grabs the back of Hannibal’s head, his fingers twains into his hair. The kisses trail down his chest and he watches with hooded eyes as Hannibal presses a kiss to his stomach. Will is hard, his dick curves to his belly and gives a jump as Hannibal presses a kiss just left of it. Hannibal’s eyes dart up to find his and he flashes a grin at Will before he licks the length of Will’s dick. Will throws his head back and gives a deep moan. He closes his eyes and his fingers grasp uselessly against the mattress as Hannibal swallows him down. His hips jerk but no hands come up to pin him down and so he gives a small trust. He looks down at Hannibal’s head bobbing up and down and he strokes his hair. Then he grips it tightly and thrust up again. Hannibal makes a noise and Will thrusts again, harder. He groans as he’s met with no struggle, only the velvet wetness of Hannibal’s mouth.

His toes curl and the muscles in his thighs strain as he fucks into Hannibal’s mouth with a litany of curses and he groans as he feels the head of his cock hit the back of Hannibal’s throat and feels it flutter around him. He feels his body grow taut and he feels the spark deep in his belly. His barely held together rhythm falls apart entirely and his lips part around a series of breathy ‘ah, ah, ah’ as his release rushes over him. He grabs Hannibal’s head with both hands and growls past gritted teeth, body curling in on itself, as he pushes deep and comes down Hannibal’s throat.

With a gasp he falls back against the mattress, loose-limbed and spent.

Hannibal climbs up his body and presses a kiss to his lips. When they break apart Will gives a breathy laugh.

“Oh, God,” Will says on another laugh. He strokes Hannibal’s hair and Hannibal presses his face to Will’s neck.

Hannibal shifts against him and Will feels Hannibal’s dick press against him. “Yes,” he mumbles against Hannibal’s hair and Hannibal gives a slow roll of his hips.

Will closes his eyes and let his hands slide over Hannibal’s body as Hannibal moves against him. He warps his legs around Hannibal’s hips and holds onto his shoulders as Hannibal’s speed picks up. Hannibal’s head drops and he almost hides away with his head beside Will’s, his face only a few inches short of being pressed against the bed. His breathing is heavy and broken up by small, clipped grunts. Will gently grabs his chin and makes Hannibal meet his gaze. Instead of hooded eyes he is met with eyes that are wide and wet. Will has to blink hard at the tears the prickle against his own eyes as he watches Hannibal look at him. Hannibal licks a quivering bottom lip into his mouth and as a tear rolls free from his eyes Will has to close his. He caresses Hannibal’s back over and over and over and he touches his cheek with shaky fingers and he feels himself tremble in the man’s embrace.

Hannibal’s rhythm picks up gradually and the noises he makes sounds more and more like growls and Will feels teeth drag along his neck and he tilts his head and as Hannibal ruts against him almost violently he feel the prick of teeth where his shoulder and neck meet and as Hannibal gives a sharp thrust and stills, coming against Will’s body, sharp teeth sink into his flesh.

“Hannibal!” It tastes like a prayer on his tongue and he jerks and his body seizes up at the flare of pain as his skin is pierced and blood trickles out thick and warm.

Hannibal’s mouth comes away bloody and he pants as he looks down at Will with dark and lidded eyes.

“You are all I ever want, Will,” Hannibal says. His voice his thick and hoarse and Will reaches out to touch his fingers to those bloodied lips.

Hannibal kisses his fingers and Will smiles at him.

“You’re beautiful,” Will tells him and Hannibal ducks his head with a tiny smile.

They lay curled up in each other’s embrace for a little while before Hannibal gets up and coxes Will out of bed as well and leads him into the shower. They clean off and the blood runs dark then pink until the water is clear and they step out to dry off. Will makes the bed as Hannibal goes to get antiseptic and cotton and cleans and dresses Will’s wound.

“A band-aide would have been enough,” Will says as he glances down at the soft, white compressor that Hannibal has taped to his shoulder.

Hannibal gives him a stern look. “I am a doctor, Will, if you recall.”

He finishes up and puts his little emergency kit away in silence, his back straight and shoulders stiff and there is a tightness around his mouth. When he climbs into the bed and slides under the covers he lays down on his back and clasps his hands together on his belly. Will shakes his head at him and pries his arm lose and snuggles himself in under it and places his head on Hannibal’s chest and listens for a little moment to the steady beat of his heart.

“You have caught me, Will,” Hannibal says. His arms wrap around Will. “But I am afraid I have hardly been tamed.”

He lifts his head and looks at Hannibal. “I never expected I would be able to civilize you.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrow and his upper lip curls into a hint of a sneer. Will kisses it. When he pulls back Hannibal’s expression has soften somewhat.

"A sheepdog wants to sever the lamb. The hawk will always have beak and claws.”

“And the lion will eat the man if she gets the chance. I know.” He kisses Hannibal again.

Hannibal finds his gaze and with almost round-looking and glossy eyes he says, “For you I fear to lose, I lose to keep, and choose tamer as prey.”

He looks at Will with wet eyes and his fingers clutch at Will’s body and Will drops his forehead against Hannibal’s and hears him exhale a shaky breath and inhale another trembling one. He feels the tremor in Hannibal’s chest and he gives him another gentle kiss.

"And I choose to be here.” He touches his fingers to the scar on his belly and Hannibal’s fingers reach out to cover his. “Even if that means the end of both my life and yours.”

Hannibal looks at him without words and then he presses his face to Will’s neck and presses trembling lips to his skin.

“Your love has sealed me. Taken my freedom. Blinded me to everything else,” Hannibal says against his neck.

Will slips his hand out from underneath Hannibal’s and places it on top of it instead, pressing Hannibal’s palm to his scar.

“If you want it you won’t have to take it from me. I would give it,” Will says with a brittle voice and he feels Hannibal’s fingers jump faintly against his skin.

Hannibal lifts his head and looks into Will’s eyes, hand pressing firmly against Will’s belly.

“What I want is to give you is a family.”

“We are family, Hannibal. And we have a daughter. You gave her to us.”

A soft smile slowly finds its way onto Hannibal’s features and Will finds that it softens his face, smooths out the angles somehow, and puts crinkles around his eyes that make them look tender – as if there is nothing untamed coiled inside. He lays his head back down on Hannibal’s chest, listens again to his beating heart and his slowing breaths, and he begins to fall asleep. Hannibal mumbles something softly and Will doesn’t stir, he’s only barely awake. Will feels Hannibal press a kiss to the top of his head.

Will gently places his hand on Hannibal’s cheek and softly mumbles, “Go to sleep, Hannibal.”

“Yes,” Hannibal answers quietly and with another kiss to Will’s head, Will feels Hannibal relax against him.

Will falls asleep to the steady sound of Hannibal’s beating heart with the knowledge that it beats for their little family and for him.

Only ever for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since early on when watching _Hannibal_ I’ve felt that “Tamer and Hawk” suits Will’s and Hannibal’s relationship. After three seasons I think so more than ever and this idea was what inspired this story. I hope you have enjoyed reading it! And as an end note, here is the poem in its entirety:
> 
> Tamer and Hawk by Thom Gunn
> 
> I thought I was so tough,  
> But gentled at your hands,  
> Cannot be quick enough  
> To fly for you and show  
> That when I go I go  
> At your commands.
> 
> Even in flight above  
> I am no longer free:  
> You seeled me with your love,  
> I am blind to other birds—  
> The habit of your words  
> Has hooded me.
> 
> As formerly, I wheel  
> I hover and I twist,  
> But only want the feel,  
> In my possessive thought,  
> Of catcher and of caught  
> Upon your wrist.
> 
> You but half civilize,  
> Taming me in this way.  
> Through having only eyes  
> For you I fear to lose,  
> I lose to keep, and choose  
> Tamer as prey.


End file.
